


there is only now.

by porcelainsimplicity (pyroallerdyce)



Series: i refuse to admit there was a beach divorce (aka all my charles/erik fics) [68]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Sports, Background Character Death, Bisexual Character, Bisexual Male Character, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Lovers to Friends, M/M, Male Friendship, Minor Original Character(s), Short Story, Tennis, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 13:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19928824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyroallerdyce/pseuds/porcelainsimplicity
Summary: “Charles!”Charles stopped walking and turned to look behind himself, finding Hank McCoy jogging down the hallway of the broadcast center to catch up to him.  “Hank.”“I heard you were down here doing commentary and I was hoping I'd get a chance to talk to you,” Hank said, taking a few more breaths after his quick jog than would have been necessary during their playing days.  “I've been trying to get a hold of you, but it seems like no one knows how to.”“Yes, well, I kind of like it that way."or:  Charles remembers how the past undid their relationship while Erik tries to fix things in the present, but Charles is hesitant and resistant despite his friends constantly telling him that he shouldn't be.





	there is only now.

**Author's Note:**

> hello awesome nerds! I am a massive tennis fan, hence why you're getting another Charles/Erik tennis-centered fic, and if you're a tennis fan too, you might just be able to recognize who this is based upon. It goes back and forth between the past and the present, but the present is set in our future if that makes any sense. Hopefully, it does, and hopefully, you'll like this. Also, this is not fluff. Just don't expect sunshine and rainbows. There's also some made-up kids in this.
> 
> If you do like this, please let me know via a comment, kudos, or bookmark so that I know I'm not writing into a void.

**January 26, 2031 – Melbourne, Australia**

“Charles!”

Charles stopped walking and turned to look behind himself, finding Hank McCoy jogging down the hallway of the broadcast center to catch up to him. “Hank.”

“I heard you were down here doing commentary and I was hoping I'd get a chance to talk to you,” Hank said, taking a few more breaths after his quick jog than would have been necessary during their playing days. “I've been trying to get a hold of you, but it seems like no one knows how to.”

“Yes, well, I kind of like it that way,” Charles said, glancing at his watch. “I've got to commentate on the night session, so if you could get to the point, I would appreciate it.”

The smile on Hank's face turned more somber, and Charles knew what he was going to say before he even said it. “I was sorry to hear about Moira. Raven and I, we both really liked her, from the little bit that we got to know her while we were all on tour.”

“Thank you,” Charles said, turning to head back in the direction he had been going, pausing again when he felt Hank's hand on his elbow. “What?”

“That wasn't all I wanted to say,” Hank said, letting go of Charles's elbow. “Listen, I would love it if you came and played my charity exhibition in October. I don't know how that would fit with your schedule or with the kids or whatever, but Scott, Logan, and Erik have all already agreed, and if you came, we could advertise it as the first post-retirement reunion of the 'big four,' and I really think that would get so many more people involved with the exhibition through sponsorship or ticket sales. So, think about it, and then let me know, okay?”

Charles went to say that he would rather join his wife in death than play Hank's exhibition but stopped himself before the words formed on his tongue. Instead, he gave Hank a polite smile. “And how am I to contact you?”

“Oh!” Hank exclaimed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a business card. “That's for Raven's manager. He's the one getting everyone lined up. Just call and let him know.”

Charles took the offered card and slipped it into the pocket of the suit coat he was wearing. “I will. Now, if you'll excuse me.”

“Of course,” Hank said as Charles began to walk away. “It's great to see you around here, Charles. You've been away for too long.”

Charles pretended like he hadn't heard him and just kept walking.

**********

**January 30, 2010 – Melbourne, Australia**

Two men sat alone in a quiet hotel room, savoring the silence that hung in the air. The mood was easy and comfortable, one supposed to be preparing for a major final the following night, the other already fallen two rounds before. It had been a surprise for the man still in the tournament when he'd opened his hotel room door to find the other standing on the other side, but now that they were there together, there was something natural about it, something relaxing. Though it shouldn't have been relaxing for the one still to play, not with the topic the conversation had almost immediately swayed to.

They were sitting on opposite sides of the bed, but facing each other and alternating between piercing stares and avoided glances. It wasn't the first time they'd had this particular conversation, but both seemed determined that this was the last time and that it would reach the conclusion they both wanted it to reach. And they both wanted it to reach the same conclusion, though they weren't about to let the other know that. They were too consumed by the fear of knowing that they both finally wanted the same thing, that the years upon years of teenage angst turned adult desire were finally going to pay off.

It was awkward at the best of times, awkward at the worst of times, and awkward during the times in which they neither agreed nor disagreed upon various points of the conversation. It dragged on and on until finally, the one who no longer had a role to play in the tournament threw up his hands, lunged forward, and crushed his lips against the lips of the man who still had a match to play. And with that one kiss, it was like the walls holding in their emotions fell to the ground, and they needed more and more and more.

Erik, the one to whom the hotel room did not belong, sneaked out in the early hours of the morning to catch a flight back to Europe.

And Charles, the one who had a major final to play that night, did just that, and lost.

**********

**April 7, 2030**

_Charles,_

_It has somehow come to Hank's attention that I am the only one who knows how to get in touch with you, and he has asked me to have you please call the man whose business card he gave you in Melbourne and tell him whether or not you'll be participating in his exhibition in Los Angeles in October. I've tried telling him that your silence is most likely your answer, but he would like a proper one._

_Before you ask, no, I don't know how he knows that I am in contact with you, and no, I didn't tell anyone your email address or phone number._

_For the record, I hope you do the exhibition. It would be great fun to have all four of us together again._

_Jean sends her love, and we both hope the children are doing well. We are looking forward to your next visit to New York and hope you will be willing to join us for dinner one evening._

_Your friend,_  
_Scott_

*****

_Scott,_

_I would call the man that Hank wants me to call but for the fact that I no longer have the business card he gave me in Melbourne. And I have not yet made up my mind about the exhibition. You know why I don't want to do it, but don't tell him that._

_Return Jean's greetings for me and tell her that Edie was over the moon about the sweater that you all sent for her birthday. Another trip to New York will happen at some point this summer, but I am not yet sure when. Hugo is looking forward to hitting with Nathan, and I fully blame you and your brother for the fact that he's begging me to have a hard court installed somewhere on the property. The girls also really want to go shopping with Jean and Rachel because I am apparently hopeless when it comes to fashions for teenage girls. While I completely agree with them, it only serves to make me sad because their mother was very good at those sorts of things. The house is lonely without her._

_Your friend,_  
_Charles_

**********

**April 10, 2010 – Monte Carlo, Monaco**

Soft jazz music drifted from the stereo as they laid entwined on the sofa. The hour was growing later and they both knew that the one who did not own the apartment would have to return to the hotel soon, but they were desperate to steal every last second they had together. The one who claimed ownership of the apartment glanced anxiously at the kitchen every time he heard the sound of dishes clanging together, but Magda had promised him she would give them time alone and so far she had lived up to her word. Part of him wished that she wasn't there at all, that they had the apartment all to themselves, but it had been agreed upon that for discretionary purposes, she would remain in his life, and the girl that used to belong to the man who had to leave would re-enter his.

“'s nice,” the man who really should be leaving murmured, shifting closer to his companion and dragging his lips across the base of his neck. “Wish we could stay like this forever.”

“One day,” Erik murmured back. “I promise.”

“Gonna hold you to that.”

“Good.”

**********

**July 1, 2030 – Wimbledon, England**

“Charles!”

Charles stopped walking and turned to look behind himself, finding Hank jogging down the street to catch up to him, reminiscent of their meeting in Melbourne six months before. “Hank.”

“I'm so thrilled that you're doing the exhibition,” Hank said, not-quite-gasping for air after his jog but close. “The reunion of the 'big four' has already gotten more pledged by the sponsors than the whole thing made last year. I cannot begin to express to you how much the foundation and myself appreciate it.”

“Yes, well, it fits in now that all the children are off at Marlborough. Hugo starts there this year,” Charles said, knowing by the look that crossed Hank's face that the American had no idea what that meant. “School, Hank. We do it a bit differently here.”

“Right,” Hank said, though the tone of his voice made it clear that he still didn't get it. “How are you doing?”

Charles stiffened and shoved his hands into his pockets. He absolutely hated questions like that. “I am managing. How is your wife?”

“She's somewhere in Australia filming another movie,” Hank said, his face beaming with pride. “She's got the kids with her, but they should all be back in Los Angeles by the time the exhibition rolls around. Raven can't wait to see you. She was really happy when I said you'd agreed to do it. She wanted me to remind you that you can bring your kids along if you want.”

“My children will all be in school then, but thank you,” Charles said, glancing at his watch. “Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go find out what they're currently doing.”

“Of course,” Hank said as Charles started to walk away. “It's good to see you, Charles! See you in October!”

**********

**July 2, 2010 – Wimbledon, England**

They had sat in separate places in the locker room, on wooden benches that were as unforgiving as their opponents had been earlier. Both had bitter pills to swallow, so close and yet so far away from the final of a tournament that meant the world to both of them in different ways. Each had been surrounded by members of their teams, trying to bring some form of resigned cheerfulness to the surface. _You played well, he was just better today. This might not have been your year, but I know that next year will be. You have to take positives from how well you did in this tournament, even if you didn't get the result you wanted._

Both wants them to go away, to be left alone with their thoughts. And eventually, the locker room cleared, leaving no one but them, still sitting on those wooden benches. The one who hadn't just disappointed an entire country was the first to move to the showers, and hours later, the one whom all the newspapers would be publishing headlines about did the same.

Somewhere in the midst of both of those showers, they each realized that it was love.

Somewhere in the midst of one of those showers, the man who didn't call the country they were in home realized it was a love that could never be.

**********

**August 11, 2030 – New York City, New York**

“He's been asking for a way to contact you.”

“Of course, he has.”

Scott reached for his glass of wine and took a sip before studying Charles over the rim of it. “You know that he's realized he was wrong.”

“I don't care.”

Scott stared at him as Charles reached for his own glass. “I don't believe that for a second.”

“Then don't believe it. But it's the truth. My feelings for him have long ago turned to apathy.” Charles took a long sip and looked over the balcony down at the club's many courts, smiling as he heard Hugo's laugh echo up from one of them. “Remind me to thank Alex for doing this.”

“Alex adores your son and thinks you should let him come to the academy.”

“I don't want him to have the same awkward experience at an academy that I did.”

Scott shook his head. “Because you went to an academy in Spain and you barely spoke a word of Spanish.”

“I don't want him so far from home.”

“Which is why you are sending him off to a boarding school.”

“Moira wanted them to go to the finest schools in Britain,” Charles choked out, pausing to down the rest of his glassful. “She handpicked Marlborough after extensive research. Who am I to go against her wishes, especially now?”

Scott reached for the bottle and refilled Charles's glass, sending him a concerned look. “Jean and I are worried about you being all alone in that enormous house.”

“I'll be fine.”

“You should look into doing more exhibitions. Or maybe playing some Champions tour events.”

“I said I'll be fine.”

“I don't believe that for a second either.”

Charles took a long sip from his glass before sighing heavily and setting it down. “I keep expecting to hear her voice calling me down to dinner. Or to walk into the bedroom and find her already in bed, engrossed in a new book. And the girls...it's not their fault, I know that, but sometimes they look so much like Moira that it makes my chest ache. Edie has more of my personality, but Josephine is exactly like her mother and it makes it somewhat difficult to be around her at times.”

“That's all natural,” Scott said softly. “Jean talks to me about how you must be feeling all the time.”

“She does love to psychoanalyze me.”

“It's her job to psychoanalyze people,” Scott pointed out. “She can't help it sometimes. Especially not when someone is hurting as much as you are.”

Charles stayed quiet for several minutes, then took in a shuddering breath. “I did love her. Maybe not in the way she truly deserved, but I did love her.”

“I have never doubted that,” Scott said seriously. “But you have always loved him too.”

Charles couldn't bring himself to deny his friend's words and changed the subject. 

Scott let him, but when they later got up from the table and began to walk towards the court where their sons were playing, he stuffed a piece of paper in Charles's hand. “His email address. In case you want to make the first move.”

“I don't want to make any move.”

“So you're just going to let it be awkward in October? I know you better than that.”

**********

**August 14, 2010 – Toronto, Canada**

Charles could feel the distance between them growing and he spent practically every second that he wasn't concentrating on tennis wondering what it was that had happened to change things. But once the tournament got into full swing, he found himself able to push all of those thoughts from his head and concentrate on what he was supposed to be doing, and he was rewarded with a victory over the world number one and a place in the next day's final, where he wasn't going to have to face the one he really didn't want to think about.

But then the one he really didn't want to think about showed up at his hotel room late that night after his match was over, and for some reason, Charles let him in. The loss that Erik had suffered no more than a few hours before was fresh in his eyes, but there was something else there as well, and the one who really should have been asleep at that moment knew what was coming.

After a mini-monologue that the one who didn't want to hear it could tell was well-rehearsed, Erik, the one who was leaving for Cincinnati in the morning, quietly let himself out of the hotel room.

After a night full of feeling sorry for himself, and with very little sleep, Charles, the one who had a final to play that day, went and did just that, and won.

**********

**October 4, 2030 – Los Angeles, California**

Charles's eyes did a quick scan of the room when he arrived, and he found himself relieved to note that he wasn't there yet. So, Charles walked immediately over to Hank and Raven to get the inevitably uncomfortable situation of re-meeting Raven and meeting their kids out of the way. He found himself enveloped in a hug that he didn't want by Raven, because she was an adult woman with curves in all the right places and if he had closed his eyes and held her just right, he could almost have convinced himself that Moira was back in his arms. The children were as boisterous as he had expected children of Hank's to be, but the girls were definitely blessed with Raven's looks and he allowed himself a silent chuckle for the teenage boys who were going to have to get past Hank in order to date his teenage daughters.

Logan and his wife approached him next, and apparently no one had felt the need to fill them in on how Moira had died, because it was the first question out of Ororo's mouth following her somber condolences. He stumbled his way through explaining about a heavy rainstorm and bad visibility and the car that had come out of absolutely nowhere and how he'd had barely a scratch on him while his beautiful Moira was covered in blood before Jean came over to save him, and he buried his face in her neck and breathed in her scent and tried to ground himself back in the present instead of his memory of that awful night nearly a year before.

Eventually, Charles was led over to a chair and soon he was laughing with Hank, Logan, and Scott about things that had occurred on the tour years before, most of them funny and most of them brought up by Scott in an attempt to get Charles's mind firmly out of the memory it was focused on and onto ones of a more pleasant nature. They were all in the middle of laughing over Sean Cassidy's antics in Australia one year when the door behind him opened, and he could tell immediately by the look on Scott's face that Erik had arrived.

Everyone began standing up and heading towards Erik, but Charles stayed seated long enough to pull out his phone and quickly text the words _in about a minute_ to Kitty. Then he made his way over to the crowd and reached over Hank's children to shake Erik's hand, doing his best to avoid direct eye contact. And then, on cue, his phone began to ring, and he pulled it out and looked at the screen. “Sorry, I have to take this. It's the kids' school. Hugo has had trouble settling. Excuse me.”

Charles walked towards the door as he answered the phone, and he whispered “perfect timing” as he walked out of the door.

“I am ashamed to know such a coward,” Kitty responded. “You can't even face him like a man.”

“I'll be doing that on the court tomorrow,” Charles said, leaning up against the wall and sighing heavily. “You don't understand.”

“You're right, I don't, and I'm not sure I ever will. But I'm trying, and the one thing I can't get past is the fact that everyone knows he's remorseful and yet you refuse to admit it.”

“He'll say anything to get what he wants,” Charles hissed, glancing back towards the door to make sure no one was listening. “And I know that better than anyone. He used me, Kitty. Why don't you all understand that?”

Kitty sighed into the phone. “Because he's spent years telling all of us how much he loves you,” she said softly. “I did my bit. You're on your own now.”

“Kitty,” Charles started, but then he heard the soft click that indicated the conversation was over.

**********

**October 9, 2010 – Shanghai, China**

They had neatly avoided each other all week, just like they had neatly avoided each other ever since that night in Toronto when the relationship had been broken by the one who he adamantly did not love. But the prospect loomed that they would face each other, not in the locker room or the hotel hallways but on the tennis court, and this was the closest they had come to having to do so. But as the one who was in complete denial over his own feelings laid down to bed that night, more relaxed than he had been when he'd awoken that morning because Scott had taken care of his problem for him, he found he couldn't get the one who he adamantly did not love off of his mind.

Charles reached for his phone and scrolled through the contacts, picked the one he was looking for, and began to compose a message. He typed out several words, then deleted them, then typed out several more, then deleted those as well, before deciding to just send something brief that didn't need a response. _Sorry you didn't win today. Was looking forward to playing you._ Then he set the phone on the bedside table and closed his eyes to go to sleep.

Except the one who he adamantly didn't love apparently didn't understand that the text didn't need a response, because a few minutes later, the phone was beeping in the notification of one. So he opened his eyes and turned on the bedside lamp and reached for his phone to see what the one who he was starting to think was an idiot had sent him. _Was looking forward to playing you too. Can we talk?_

And Charles sat there for what felt like hours but the clock told him was only a couple of minutes, and he thought about the man who was likely in the same sort of scenario in a different room in that same building, sitting and waiting, and he took a moment to remind himself that he adamantly did not love the one who was waiting for a response. Then he typed out ten words and hit send, and once he was sure the message had gone through, he turned off the phone and set it back on the bedside table. He turned off the bedside lamp and resettled himself in the bed, closing his eyes to go to sleep, but he couldn't get those ten words out of his head. 

_I think you said everything that needed to be said._

**********

**November 23, 2030**

_Charles,_

_I want to talk to you. Please let me talk to you._

_Erik_

*****

_Erik,_

_How did you get this address?_

_Charles_

*****

_Charles,_

_I begged Scott for it, and once he realized what I needed to say to you, he gave in. Don't be mad at him. He said he was doing it for your benefit. Please let me talk to you._

_Erik_

*****

_Erik,_

_Scott means well but sometimes he just doesn't know when to stay out of things. I have nothing to say to you._

_Charles_

*****

_Charles,_

_You might not have anything to say to me, but I have lots of things I want to say to you. Please let me talk to you._

_Erik_

*****

_Dear sender,_

_Your message has failed. The address that you were attempting to send to does not exist. Please check that it is correct and then try again._

**********

**November 27, 2010 – London, England**

They passed one another in the hallway and the one who was still adamant he wasn't in love found his elbow grabbed the one who he was adamant he wasn't in love with. A few words of condolence were said by the one who had yet to play his match, but the one who had just lost his didn't want to hear them. Charles pulled his arm away from Erik's grasp, politely wished him luck, and continued on.

The one who had disappointed his country yet again made sure he was alone that night, then put the television on and watched the one who had broken his heart play. And though he wanted to feel satisfied when he saw Erik lose, all the one who was sure he'd never get over him felt was numb.

**********

**January 28, 2031 – Melbourne, Australia**

“Charles!”

All Charles could think was that he was really going to have to stop running into Hank like this. “Hank.”

“I've got Scott, Logan, and Erik all lined up. Don't tell me it's going to take months to convince you again too.”

Charles glanced around the media center corridor looking for a way out of this conversation, sighing when he found none. “It will depend entirely on what happens with Hugo. He is still not settled at school.”

“But you'll let me known as soon as you can?”

“Of course.”

**********

**January 30, 2011 – Melbourne, Australia**

The one who was supposed to be celebrating stood in the hotel room doorway of the one whom he had just beaten to within an inch of his life on the tennis court, and Charles was very confused as to why the one who had won was there. But neither said a thing, just stood there staring at one another, one with remorse and regret in his eyes, and the other echoing the regret without realizing it. The one who had won reached towards the one who had lost, and that snapped the one who had lost out of whatever reverie he had been in, pushing the one who had remorse and regret in his eyes away and slamming the door in his face. The one who didn't realize he had been projecting the regret he felt slid down to the floor and leaned up against the door, and after a few minutes the tears began to fall.

Charles never did work out if they were over the match or the remnants of their relationship.

**********

**March 24, 2031**

_Scott,_

_Could you please send me information about the academy for Hugo? Thank you._

_Charles_

*****

_Charles,_

_Does this mean you are speaking to me again? Because I certainly hope that it means that you are speaking to me again. I only gave him your email address because he said the one thing that I needed to hear him say to know that he was serious._

_The information is attached. Ignore all the parts about qualifying for the school. Alex and I both agree that Hugo has a place in the academy if he wants one._

_Your friend,_  
_Scott_

*****

_Scott,_

_And what, might I ask, did he say that would make you throw away years of friendship?_

_Thank you for the information. I'm seriously considering it. Hugo is very unsettled at Marlborough._

_Charles_

*****

_Charles,_

_Erik came to the house here in New York and joined us for a lovely dinner. When Scott asked him how Magda and the kids were, he explained their divorce three years ago and admitted that he didn't mention it at the exhibition because everyone seemed so happy and he didn't want to bring anyone down. He then very poignantly explained that he and Magda had agreed that it was time for him to stop living the lie that he had been living for years upon years, and for him to find what truly made him happy. After relationships with men named Bastian, Philipp, and Lukas, he told us that it became clear to him that the only thing that had ever made him truly happy was you._

_Please don't be upset with Scott. He was only doing what he thought best. For the record, I agreed with him._

_As for Hugo, we would be honored to have him live with us while he is at the academy, should you decide that is what you would like to do with him. I know that Nathan would very much enjoy that, but we have not yet told him of the prospect in case it does not happen._

_Email him, Charles. You both deserve happiness._

_Your friend,_  
_Jean_

**********

**March 26, 2011 – Miami, Florida**

Charles, the one who apparently could no longer win a match, had for some reason agreed to play doubles with Erik, the one who apparently could no longer lose a match, and he was regretting every single second of it. Not that it wasn't fun to play doubles with the invincible one – the invincible one was always amusing on a doubles court in the early rounds of a tournament – but the one who was a complete and utter loser in all ways regretted it because it meant having to spend time with him.

And Charles wasn't ready to spend time with him. He wasn't ready to try and be nothing but friends again. 

But there they were, in the locker room discussing strategy, which seemed to mean very little to the invincible one and quite a lot to the complete and utter loser, and acting like this was something they did every week. It was the most they had spoken about anything in months, and somehow the invincible one managed to keep the remorse and regret that had seemed to be a permanent fixture in his eyes from being there, and the complete and utter loser found it much easier to pretend they were friends when he did that. 

They went onto the court, played some incredible points, needed strategy more than the invincible one had thought they would, lacked the strategy the complete and utter loser knew they would need, and they lost.

**********

**May 13, 2031**

_Erik,_

_Will be at Roland Garros doing commentary. Have been told you will be there doing the same. Would be agreeable to meeting and clearing the air once and for all._

_Charles_

*****

_Charles,_

_Name the time and place and I will be there, though I would prefer to do most of the talking in private. And thank you._

_Erik_

*****

_Scott and Jean,_

_I emailed him. We're meeting in Paris. I hope you're both happy._

_Would like to call and talk to you about the academy sometime soon. Let me know when you're back at home. It's becoming increasingly clear to me that Hugo not only wants to go to the academy, he wants to follow in my footsteps and become a professional player. Lord help him._

_Your friend,_  
_Charles_

**********

**May 14, 2011 – Rome, Italy**

There were not words for how devastated Charles was. He had come so close, _so close_ , to beating the one who apparently could not lose a motherfucking match, and he felt like he would have exorcised a lot of demons about the one who could not lose should he have won. But he didn't win. He just became victim number thirty-something of the season.

He wanted to shout a lot of curse words in the direction of the opposite end of the locker room, but he refrained. Erik was sitting there, staring at him with that damn remorse and damn regret back in his eyes, and he looked like he was about to say something completely unrelated to the match at any moment.

The one who had lost stormed into the showers before the one who had won could do anything but stare.

**********

**June 1, 2031 – Paris, France**

Charles woke slowly, his eyes focusing on an unfamiliar hotel room instead of the family portrait that hung on the wall of his bedroom at home. He felt content, at peace for the first time in over a year, and it took his foggy brain a few moments to figure out why that was.

But then a strong arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him flush against Erik's body. Soft kisses peppered his neck, and for the first time in a couple of decades, Charles felt like he was doing something right.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” Erik said into his skin. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For finally listening. For giving me another chance. You won't regret it.”

**********

**June 3, 2011 – Paris, France**

His ankle was throbbing and hurt in ways that he'd never hurt before. He'd lost to Scott – again. He'd lost in the semis of a slam – again. Forget the round, he'd lost – again.

Yet there he laid, a gigantic smile on his face, French TV playing in the background. At least he wasn't the only one who knew what it felt like to lose that night. As he watched the one who had finally been beaten walk off the court, he felt a sense of camaraderie with the man that had been lacking for months.

**********

**August 18, 2031 – New York City, New York**

“Happiness looks good on you.”

Charles looked over as Scott sat down in the chair next to him, smiling at him before turning his attention back to the pool where Erik was playing with several kids, some American, some German, and some British. “He's changed.”

“He hasn't,” Scott said seriously. “You just finally let him say what he wanted to for twenty years.”

“No, he has,” Charles said. “He never would have given Magda up for me then. And I probably wouldn't have given Moira up for him then either. We've both changed.”

“Well, if you have, it's for the better.”

“I'm not disagreeing with that.” Charles felt the smile on his face grow larger when Erik looked over at him. “Even if I had let him say all of that, it wouldn't have changed anything. Things went exactly the way they were supposed to. We both loved, we both lost, and we both gained a lot from the experience. And I don't know what I'd do without my kids, and neither does he.”

“They're good kids,” Scott mused. “We already know that about your kids, but Jean loved taking Wanda and Nina shopping with the girls, and Nathan and Hugo loved playing against Pietro.”

“They get along well,” Charles said. “Did I tell you Josephine saved me from the difficult explanation of our relationship?”

Scott laughed. “No.”

“First weekend the kids are all home from school, Josephine just comes out with it at dinner. Apparently Moira had said enough over the years about how close Erik and I had once been for it to be obvious to the girls once they met Erik in person and saw us together. They were all happy for me, for us.”

“So when is he moving to London then?”

Charles shook his head. “He isn't. At least not yet. We're taking this slowly. This could take a lifetime to work properly.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“It's necessary. We each have three other people whose needs go above our own. There's plenty of time for us to take turns seeing one another once the kids are all back in school. And we'll probably end up here more often than I have, since we'll have Hugo to come watch now.”

Scott smiled as the boy just mentioned did a running leap into the deep end of the pool. “We'll take good care of him.”

“I know you will,” Charles said, turning to look at Scott. “I wouldn't be trusting you with my only son if I thought you wouldn't.”

“Those kids are wearing me out,” Erik said as he approached them, bypassing the chair next to Charles and sitting down on the ground in front of them. “Your turn to watch them.”

“I've been watching them the whole time,” Charles said, reaching out to brush some wet hair off Erik's forehead. “I am just smart enough to watch from here instead of getting in the pool with them.”

Erik caught Charles's hand and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of his wrist. “I'll have to remember that for next time.”

Their eyes met, and Charles couldn't keep himself from grinning. Everything between them was exactly as it was supposed to be.

**********

**August 21, 2011 – Cincinnati, Ohio**

This wasn't what it was supposed to be. Charles was supposed to be the triumphant victor, only the second man to beat the so-called golden boy this season, and dammit, he was beating him. He was beating him, and it had nothing to do with a stupid shoulder injury, and now there he was with the trophy in hand and yet he was the fucking afterthought. He'd never been so upset over a victory in his life.

Erik had just emerged from the showers into the otherwise empty locker room, and instead of heading in the direction of his own space, he came and sat down next to the one who had beaten him. 

They sat in silence for what felt like forever, the one who had won savoring the freshly clean scent of the one who had lost on every inhale. Finally, Erik leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Charles's cheek, murmured congratulations, and moved back to his side of the locker room.

It wasn't what it was supposed to be, but the one who had won realized that it was the best it was going to get.


End file.
